


A Favour Only You Can Do

by inukag123



Series: Adrienette April [8]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2020-09-01 10:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20256292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukag123/pseuds/inukag123
Summary: The devistatingly handsome son of of the CEO of Gabriel has burst into Marinette's office begging a favour, and who is she to refuse?





	1. A Favour

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's definitely still April, right? Totally, let's go with that. 
> 
> Enjoy!

'Listen, I really need you to do me this favour, you're my only hope.'

Marinette was frozen at her desk, staring at the blond whom she had previously only seen in magazines and advertisements.

Right now, he was perched on the edge of his chair, a tattered jacket across his lap and his green eyes wide and pleading. 

'Y-you're Adrien Agreste.' Marinette managed, finally lowering her pen from the blank notepad she had started on mere sconds before the famous model and the _son of the owner of the company she worked for_ had burst into the tiny room. 

'Yes, yes I am,' he grinned sheepishly. 'And you're Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I heard that you recently got promoted from intern straight to designer, of your own merit. That's why I'm here.'

Marinette felt her throat go dry. 'You've seen my work?'

'I've seen your work.' He smiled back. 'And now I need your help.'

Marinette's eyes fell to the jacket in front of him, and he held it up with a grimance.

Once a sleek, carefully stitched, emerald green jacket that was clearly to Marinette's trained eye, one of a kind, was now dirty, and heavily torn. 

Marinette couldn't help but suck in a pained breath.

'It's from the line that's supposed to be released tomorrow. My friend convinced me to wear it out last night, and...' he trailed off, hanging his head. 'It got stolen from the cloak room along with a bunch of others, and I think the theif dropped it and it got run over. Or something. I just need you to fix it,' he glanced up at her, 'and I absolutely have to swear you to secrecy.' 

'I,' she started. This model had her job in the palm of his hand, a fact of which she was keenly aware right at this moment. And yet the state of the unfortunate garment, 'I'm not sure if I could,'

'I'll reimburse you. I'll do anything,' he pleaded. He looked down at his hands.

'There's one more thing, I need to be on the catwalk with this tomorrow afternoon.'

Marinette paled. 

But she saw the desperate look in his eyes.

She let out a breath. 

She leaned forward and took the begotten jacket from his hands, before carefully spreading it over her desk.

He looked onward earnestly, his eyes flicking between her and the jacket. 'If you can't fix it, I'm going to be absolutely murdered. I snuck it out, I shouldn't have taken it,'

Marinette was running her hands over the garment with expert fingers, her brow pinched. 

It looked decidedly like it had been run over; there were mud spatters and a split seam starting up the back vent, and one sleeve had been near completely torn off.

'Mr Agreste, even if I could, I don't have the materials I would need here,' she stared at her own hand now pulled through the shoulder hole. 

'What do you need?' He immediately replied.

'Well, I would need more of the fabric and the same thread this was originally made from,' she removed her hand and flattened the fabric carefully. 

'I can get them. The designer's away for the day, working on the Women's Gala shoot.' 

'A-and, I don't think I could use the machines here without getting seen,' she added.

'I could take it home, but I'd need to,' 

'Fit me?' He filled in as she trailed off, a pink dusting her cheeks. 

'Y-yes, that.' 

'I can go with you. I snuck out before, I can sneak out again.' He glanced up at her.

'Not that I want to force you,' he said worriedly.

She looked down at the jacket for a moment longer.

She looked up at him, concern in her eyes.

'I'm sorry, I don't think I can fix this.'

He hung his head.

'Ok. I understand.' He managed.

'But I can remake it.'

His head snapped up, abject shock on his face, his eyes wide.

'...are you serious?'

'The way some of these tears are, the original designer's bound to notice any alterations or fixings.' She started. 'But if you can get enough of the original fabric and thread, I can make a new one using this one as a pattern.' 

He grinned, a wild look in his eye that had Marinette flushing. 'You're amazing, Marinette. I'll pay you whatever you want, you can name your price.'

'Mr. Agreste, I-'

'Please,' he said, raising a hand, 'call me Adrien. "Mr. Agreste" is definitely my father.'

* * *

'I brought chinese food,' he said, raising the bag, as soon as Marienette had opened the door to her studio apartment. 'I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a bit of everything.'

'You didn't have to do that,' she managed weakly, moving aside to let him in. 

'You are literally saving my life, it's the least I can do.' He grinned. 'I brought the materials you needed as well, it was literally taken from the same bolt of fabric.' He proffed a shoulderbag he had slung over his shoulder. 'You said to get three metres, but I got a bit more, just in case.'

'D-did you leave anything on the bolt?' She said, taking the bag of takeaway from him carefully.

He looked back at her with a grin, setting the shoulderbag down next to the door with an unnervingly heavy noise. 'Should I have?'

She blinked at him. 

Surely, 

Surely this was a dream.

Surely the model and future head of _Gabriel_, not to mention _devastatingly_ handsome blond was not standing in her tiny apartment with a smile on his face.

Surely she was not going to try and perfectly replicate a one-of-a-kind jacket to be presented on the catwalk _tomorrow_. 

By Adrien Agreste.

Oh, god, she's going to have to sit and _eat dinner with Adrien Agreste_. 

Something inside her pulled on its working hat.

'But before any of that,' she said aloud, 'I need to start tracing the pattern. Mr Agreste, you can sit and eat; I need to get started.'

'You can call me "Adrien".' He added a little half-heartedly.

But she was already diving into the bag, and pulling out a double-armload of green velvet and silk lining. 'I could never afford material this quality,' she freely admitted as she moved into the sole separate room from the main room: her work room. 'I could only dream of it.'

'Is this where the magic happens?' Adrien followed into her doorway. He turned to look at the rest of the main room, and his eyes fell on the little bed in the far corner of the room. 'You don't sleep in the bedroom?'

'"Don't work where you sleep, or you never will".' Marinette said, without looking up at him. She set the fabric onto the large cutting table, where the unpicked original jacket lay waiting.

He snorted. 'I know a few people who could learn from that saying.'

'I learned it the hard way, through lycée and university.' She plucked up a stick of marking chalk, and set to work. 'Seriously, go eat. I don't need you for right this second, but I will later.' She hestitated, looking up at him. 'Sorry, that was really informal,'

'Don't worry about it.' He was still smiling. 'I'm just grateful you're doing me such a huge favour.'

She found a grin of her own playing around her lips as her eyes fell back to the fabric. 'I'd advise you to keep that in mind when I give you the bill.'

He raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. 'Whatever it is, I can pay for it. This is such a big ask.'

She let out a breath, her eyes not raising from her work. 

'How did you even find out about me?'

And yet over her shoulder, there was a dusting of pink on his cheeks as he replied.  
'I've seen some of your work down on the designer's floor. I may only barely be able to sew a button myself, but I've been around enough good handmade fashion to know what's amazing.' His eyes fell from the shoulders of her bent form to her hands, which were marking with precise, expert hands. 'And I've never seen one designer with so much versatility. As soon as I saw what happened to the jacket I knew exactly who to come to.'

Her hands slowed, and she was glad that she was facing away from him as she didn't think she could blush any harder. 'I-I'm glad that my work stood out to you.'

'I'm just glad you recognised me when I burst into your office this afternoon, and didn't immediately kick me out.' He smiled.

'I wasn't about to "kick out" _Adrien Agreste_ from my office.' She managed. 'You could have me fired with the snap of your fingers.'

The sudden quiet behind her made her look up, and she turned to see him looking horrorstruck.

Adrien took a moment to find his mouth. 'I would never-!' He blustered, turning pale.

She blinked at him, surprised, before shaking herself slightly and moving back to her work. 'In fact, I could probably be fired just for talking to you. If my boss ever finds out about this,'

'But,' he hestitated, 'you're still doing it?'

She turned back to smile at him brightly. 'If I couldn't handle being thrown from the frying pan and into the fire, then I certainly couldn't make it as a designer!'

He stared at her for a moment, suddenly struggling to find something to say, for a completely different reason. 


	2. Between the Stitches

'Miss designer, you need to come and eat something.' Adrien said, tapping on the doorframe, and she twisted to stare at him with wild eyes. 'It's one a.m..'

'I can't possibly! I'm so close, I'll need you to try on this in a minute!' She said hurridly, moving to turn back to her sewing machine.

'You've physically beat me back with a cardboard tube when I tried to bring the food to you, so I'm afraid I'll have to retry bring you to it.'

'No food in the workroom!' She half snapped. 'Half the fabric in here is irreplacable!'

'What's it going to take for you to eat, then?' He asked, leaning against the door casually.

'How can you be so blasé about this! I only have eight more hours to make the most perfect jacket I've ever seen!' She panicked. Yes, she was panicking. She could feel it seeping into the edges of her vision.

'Look, Marinette, please. As your friend, I want you to come and eat with me. Just for five minutes.'

She tried to take a few calming breaths, in and out. 'I don't think I'm allowed to be your friend, A-Mr Agreste,' she pointed out.

'I won't tell if you won't.' He smiled, reached forward to take her by the elbow, and carefully guided her from the room.

Almost in a haze she was seated on the tiny couch, and a container of mee goreng was deposited into her hands.

'Go on, eat. I've been around designers my entire life, I know how you need the reminding.' He prompted, before reaching for the bag of prawn crackers.

She took a few careful bites, before discovering she was ravenous.

'See? There you go.'

'You sound like Alya,' she managed between mouthfuls.

'Who's Alya?' He questioned.

'My best friend. She keeps me alive, sometimes. Reminds me to eat when I'm on a creating bend.'

He laughed. 'Even my father needs that, sometimes. I've heard his secretary complain about it when she doesn't know I'm listening.'

She glanced sharply up at him. 'Even your father?'

'Yeah, he doesn't do so much actual sewing anymore, but when the bug gets him, it eats him.' He looked up at the ceiling with a rueful smile. 'Do you remember last year's _Women's Gala_?'

'You had André Grimme working for you then, he was the main designer until, what happened?'

'I was there when it happened, it's one of my favourite memories. André was certainly having a bad run, and he came out with this awful line that was supposed to be presented. Father actually stood up, threw down his clipboard, and said "_Even a monkey could make something better than this!_" And off he went, he binned the line and designed a whole new one himself in the space of a week.'

Marinette stared. She'd heard that tabloids, but- 'in a _week_? A whole line? That's completely insane!'

'I don't think he slept the entire week. I swear he nearly died on three separate occasions. But I've never seen him look so pleased when those girls walked that walk at the end of it.' Adrien looked at the cracker in his hand with a smile. 'My only regret is I didn't film that day. Even a monkey...' he echoed, chortling.

After a moment, Marinette realised that her food had been hanging halfway to her mouth for far too long. Hurridly she stuffed it inside, and continued her meal with renewed vigour.

'You seem to get on well with him,' she said after a moment of fast eating. 'Even though I heard he's a bit,' she looked down at her food, turning red. 'I shouldn't have said anything.'

'No, no,' he said, a little ruefully. 'Father just, he's a very particular man.' Yet his eyes were distant, and his smile was fading. 'He has very high expectations, and it helps him maintain a high level of integrity.'

Something about his words sounded rehearsed, to Marinette's ears, but she didn't comment. 'Are you,' she started, before, 'do you enjoy working with the company?'

He looked back at her, as if snapping out of a revere. 'Yes, I do actually. I actually like the business side of Gabriel a lot, so I'm leaning more into that side.'

'But you still model,' she managed, a blush chasing across her cheeks. It was the reminance of before, she swore to herself.

'Yes, I still do that.' He sat back into the cushions. 'Don't tell my nutritionist about all this, by the way,' he gestured to the half-eaten boxes of fried food before them with a prawn cracker. 'She'll be first in the list of people who will want to kill me.'

Marinette smiled. 'I won't tell if you don't.'

He toasted her with his cracker. 'Cheers to that. Shame, I thought about bringing some wine as well, but I didn't think drunken sewing would help with the case of not assassinating me.'

She snorted. 'I know that from experience. I once tried to sew an outfit on the night before a night out with Alya and Nino, and Alya brought wine, and long story short I broke three machine needles and wore something I borrowed.'

Adrien laughed, before half choking on a mouthful.

She waited until he had snatched up his glass of water, and taken a few hasty gulps, before leaning forward.

'So, why me?'

He lowered his glass, looking at her. 'What do you mean? I thought I explained. I liked your-'

'No,' she waved him off, 'I mean, if you'd have stormed into my office, ordered me to do the jacket, and blustered out, I wouldn't have thought twice. So,' she looked at him with a gaze that sent a shiver up his spine, 'why me? I'm sure you could have equally paid off your main designer with the kind of money you have,' she trailed off. 'You don't have to be so nice to me.'  
He looked down at his glass. 'I'm, not sure. You're easy to talk to.' He raised his eyes to meet her gaze. 'And I'm not the type of guy to start ordering people around, I'm not-I mean, I try to be kind.'

'You can't be very good at business then.' She said without thinking, before slamming a hand across her mouth in horror. 'I am so sorry,' she mumbled around it, flushing red.

'Don't worry,' he laughed. 'In a way, you're right. But I don't want to be- the kind of person who isn't kind when it's important.'

She knew her eyes were soft as she replied. 'I think that's very wise.' She frowned slightly. 'But you have to be careful, I hope you have someone to look out for you.'

'Well, Chloé tends to keep an eye out, but mostly I just tend to spend most of my time trying to cover my mistakes.' He grinned.

'Chloé? Chloé Bourgeoise?' She felt a twist of anxiety. 'The tabloids say you're dating her, but the rumours in the office say it's all fake.'

He looked at her for a moment. 'It's all fake.' He confirmed. 'We've been friends since we were toddlers. It'd be like dating my little sister, I've spent too many times peeling her off of a club floor to even consider it.'

For some reason, she felt a sense of relief.

She stood, suddenly flustered. 'I really should get back to it.'

He grinned at her ruefully. 'Sorry you have to stay up so late.'

'Oh don't think you get to sleep easy the rest of the night either, mister.' She grinned back with a wicked gleam.

He slumped back onto the couch. 'You know, I still want to die from last night, and yet here I am. This is the dedication I bring to the table.'

She started towards her workroom again, and he hovered behind her.

'You know, I'm still sewing the pieces together,' she said, hesitating at the doorway, 'you could take a nap if you need.'

'I mean, I don't want to sleep while you're working so hard,' he started, but the couch was looking at him with seductive eyes.

'Go on, at least if you fall asleep on the catwalk tomorrow that won't be my fault, you'll just look flawless as you fall.'

'I look flawless anyway,' he grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

'Models, you're all cut from the same cloth.' She groused, heading into the workroom to hide a smile.

'Was that a pun?' He smiled.

'Blame the sleep deprivation,' came her voice as he flopped down betwixt the couch's loving arms.

* * *

It was half past four, and Adrien was staring at himself in the mirror.

'I can't believe it, you're the greatest designer I've ever seen.' He said, his eyes wide as he shifted slightly.

'I haven't finished it yet, you can't thank me.' Marinette said through a mouthful of pins. She was carefully pinning one sleeve to exactly the right length. 'I still have the finishing touches.'

'Seriously, Marinette, I think I love you.' He freely admitted, and she flushed to the roots of her hair.

'Y-you're saying that too easily.'

'I'll say anything easily at half four in the morning.' He replied, shrugging his free shoulder and trying to not look at the dark shadows under his eyes. 'Would you like a marriage proposal as well?'

'Don't you dare.' She shot back, without venom. 'I'm so tired my head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool.'

'Me too. I actually think I'm going to die.' He scrubbed at his face. 'Do you think this counts as a form of masochism?'

'Probably.' She replied. 'Ok, you can take it off. Give me two more hours and I'll be done.'

'You're amazing, and wonderful, and so wonderfully gifted,' he trailed aimlessly, carefully removing the garment with practiced ease.

'You need sleep,' she laughed. 'I can't believe you set a timer for ten minutes for your nap earlier.'

'I needed to be awake to help!' He managed.

'It'll be fine,' she soothed. 'You need to not look like death warmed over for your walk tomorrow.'

'I'll be fine! I can do a catwalk in my sleep.'

'You just might have to prove it, at this rate,' she smiled.

'How are you still so awake?' He demanded, a little blearily.

'I'm a designer. I have more coffee than blood in my veins.'

'That can't be good for you,' he mumbled.

'Says the guy who stayed up all night two nights in a row in the middle of the week.'

'Chloé said that if I go out then, It'd be less likely that I get recognised.'

She stood and carefully hung the jacket back onto the hanger behind her, then placed her hands on the model's shoulder's and started to guide him from the room.

'Seriously. Couch. I'll wake you if I need anything.'

'Alright, alright, miss designer.' He grumbled.

'My name is Marinette.' She chided gently as she guided him onto the couch again.

'Well my name is Adrien. And until the catwalk tomorrow, we're partners...' he managed, already dozing.

She moved to the doorway, and listened for a moment to his gentle snoring.

'Goodnight, Adrien,' she murmured, before a blush danced across her cheeks and she disappeared.


	3. Finished

Adrien was awoken almost exactly two hours later to a hand on his shoulder and the smell of coffee in the air.

'It's done, but we have to go or we'll be late.' 

It was Marinette's hand, connected to Marinette's wrist, connected to Marinette's arm, connected to Marinette herself, who was offering a coffee with her other hand.

'What time is it?' He croaked, and tried to clear his thoat.

'It's a quarter to seven, you have fifteen minutes to get ready and then you'll have to brave the taxi and traffic to get to the office today.' She took a sip of her coffee. 'If no one else, and at the risk of my job moreso than jailtime, I will actually kill you if anything happens to that jacket between now and that godforsaken catwalk.'

'Oh, right.' He took a gulp of coffee. 'Wait, you're not coming with me?'

'No way. If we get seen getting out of a taxi together going into work,' she shuddered. 'I'll take the metro, as usual.'

'Will I at least see you at the walk?' He was surprised to hear a hint of pleading in his voice.

'I-don't think I'd be allowed,' she said regretfully. 

'I'll get you a pass. You should at least see the actual debut of the thing.'

'But, I can't ask you to do that!' Marinette shook her head.

'Don't worry, I'll pull some strings. I'm not the future CEO for nothing,' he winked at her.

She flushed, and took an embarrassed sip from her red-and-black spotted mug. 'I never knew that the future CEO was such a rebel, your interviews read you to be very straight-laced.'

'You read my interviews?' He raised his eyebrows at her.

Somehow, she flushed harder. 'It's good to keep an eye on what the people at the top are doing.' She mumbled.

'I see,' he swilled his coffee, a little disappointed. He scrubbed at his face. 'Holy cats,

I feel like I'm dying. I know you said you're a moving coffee pot, but I just don't understand how you're still so functional.'

'Honestly? I make no promises about my quality of work for the day.' She shrugged, and he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. 'But I'll live.'

He set down his mug and stood, stretching. 'Don't tell anyone, but I'm so glad I keep a secret toothbrush in my office.'

She snorted. 'A secret one too? Wouldn't you have to rebrush before every shoot?'

'And every meeting,' he pointed out with a smile. 'So where is the much-sought jacket?'

'I'm lending you a suit bag, it's in the sewing room.' She stood, moving towards it.

'The bag's getting added to your bill, by the way.'

'Makes sense,' he trundled after her, and took her proffed mug so that she could enter the room for a moment.

She reppeared, a suit bag held high with reverence. 'If you do anything to this bag on the way over, it's on your own head. But let me remind you about me killing you as well.'

'Don't jinx me!' He shot back, feeling a shiver down his spine. 'I would be so dead if something like that happened!'

'Something like that already did happen, you're just lucky you managed to pull off the recovery.' She grinned at him as he set down the mugs, and carefully took the bag from her.

'Do you need me to call you a cab?' She questioned.

'I'll just hail one, it'll be ok. You live surprisingly close to the building.' He glanced at her.

'Well I had to move closer, or else it would be a two hour fight with the metro every day.' She shrugged. 'Do you want a croissant?'

He blinked at her. 'Of course I do, I'm French and a starving model. Why? Are you offering?'

'Sure, just don't get crumbs down yourself. You'll be mobbed when you get in just for the crumbs.' She moved to her world's smallest kitchenette, and pulled out a paper bag. 'Eat it in the taxi, you'd better go.'

He hefted the much lighter shoulder bag and took the paper bag from her. 'Thank you so much,'

'Are you sure you have everything?' She questioned as he awkwardly shuffled to the front door.

'I think so.' He pulled open the door, before pausing, looking at her. 'Hey, Marinette?'

She paused in her bustling. 'Yes?'

He looked at her for a long moment, a moment that held a thousand lifetimes as she looked back, hoping against hope.

But no, he flushed and dropped his eyes.

'I'll make sure you get that pass. See you at two?'

She nodded. 'See you then, but I doubt you'd get the chance to chat.'

He shook his head disappointedly. 'That's true. I'm sorry, I'll be in contact then.' He took a breath. 'Goodbye, thanks again.'

'Anytime.' She felt a pang in her chest, and found she couldn't bear to watch him walk away, so she shut the door carefully against his retreating figure.

* * *

It was nearly noon when there was a tap at her door; a gentle one that was soon followed by a flushed intern.

'Emile! What can I do for you?' She said, her eyes on the brown envelope in the quaking boy's hands. 

'I-I'm supposed to give this to you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.' His voice quavered, the boy couldn't have been more than a teenager. 

'Of course,' she said warmly, taking the proffed envelope. 'Thank you.'

He hestiated for a moment as if half-expecting to see the contents, before jumping slightly and heading back for her door. 'Bye,' he said as he left, closing it behind him.

It wasn't until the door had settled in its frame that Marinette turned her eyes to the delivery, and opened it with haste.

Inside was a VIP pass with her name on it, something that all the designers wore to events, and a post-it note stuck to the back.

_To start repayments, dinner Friday? _

It was followed by a string of digits: his private phone number.

Marinette sagged in her seat, staring at the ceiling as a blush flooded her face.

_How did I,_ she thought, trying to gather her scattered brain, _how did this happen? _

She slowly tipped foreward, until her head rested on her desk, the post-it clutched in her hand.

'I can't believe this is my life,' she mumbled. 'Also, aren't you supposed to spend the night with someone _after_ you like and get to know them?' She hesitated. _'I didn't spend the night with him!'_ She shot back at herself. 

After a long moment, she sat up and hastily stuffed the note into her pocket. 'I need more coffee.'

She stood, and moved towards her door, before pulling out the note again, staring at it. 

Carefully, as if it would bite, she reached down into her bag under her desk and pulled out her phone.

She input the digits one at a time, entitled the contact Adrien, and hit 'save'.  
But?

_He just wants to pay me back for the jacket, right?_ She turned on her heel to face her desk. _There's no way it's a date. Well, maybe it is a date, but it's just an event, not a_ date _date._

Just then, her phone vibrated, and she jumped so badly it dropped from her hand and landed on the soft carpet below.

There was no way,

She hastily scrabbled for her phone, and punched in her passcode so quickly she had to try again.

_'Hey girl! I just stopped for lunch, will you surface anytime soon?' _

It was Alya, and Marinette found the breath in her chest again.

Alya worked at Paris Daily, and was fast becoming one of the best journalists around. 

_'I can't, I'm going to a walk this afternoon. Sorry,'_ she managed to reply. _'Next time?'_

_'For sure! Also, how come you weren't replying last night? Were you stress-stitching again?' _

Marinette considered this.

_'Yep! You caught me. Gotta fly though, I have to get everything finished!' _

She shovelled the phone back into her pocket, and headed for the coffee machine. 

'One more for the road,' she said to herself. She knew the dull headache she had at the back of her skull wasn't going to go away anytime fast.


End file.
